Grief
by arandomshipper
Summary: Everyone deals with it differently. As for Ron, he just shuts down and shuts everyone out. But now there's something bad going down at GJ, and it seems he's the only one that can help... Rating for character death and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm just arandomshipper, not an owner.

 **Grief**

Ron lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Just as he had done all day yesterday. And the day before that. And every day for...he had no idea how long exactly. Some might say he was letting his life waste away, but as far as he was concerned, his life was already over. He had watched it end right in front of him, in a scene that continued playing in his head over and over ever since.

 _Kim and Ron crawled through the air duct towards the control room of Drakken's new and improved flying fortress lair. They reached the opening just in time to hear his traditional rant._

 _"Mwahaha, this time my plan is foolproof! No one can stop me, not even-"_

 _"Give it up, Drakken!" Kim interrupted as she and Ron dropped into the room, taking fighting stances._

 _"Kim Possible?!" Drakken's eyes bulged. "But how? We're twenty thousand feet in the air!"_

 _"Oh, please, like something like that makes it difficult for ME?"_

 _"Grrrrr. SHEGO! ATTACK! Destroy her!"_

 _"With pleasure." The villianess finally looked up and set down her nail file, having had no interest in the conversation until that point, and being completely unstartled by Kim and Ron's sudden entrance._

 _Ron left Kim to fight Shego as usual, and approached the control panel. "Oooh, what does this button do?"_

 _"Don't touch that!" Drakken attacked Ron, and the two began 'fighting'._

 _Meanwhile, Shego was flying headlong at Kim, who retreated while landing blow after blow on her nemesis. Alarm bells were going off in her head, as Shego made no attempt whatsoever to ward off blows or return them, putting everything she had into closing with Kim instead._

 _"What's the matter Shego, forget how to fight?" Kim taunted, trying to cover her growing worry._

 _"Not at all, Kimmie. I just finally realized something." Shego grinned through a bloody lip and continued to advance._

 _"That you always lose, so you might as well give up?" Kim was sweating, and the space behind her was fast disappearing as she approached the wall._

 _Shego ignored the comment. "It was while I was watching a UFC match. You see, superior speed can be an even match for superior strength, as long as the opponents stick to striking. But as soon as it becomes a grappling match..." She lunged forward and tackled Kim against the wall, wrapping her arms and legs with her own and bearing her to the ground. "...It's over." She whispered. She sat on Kim's legs, preventing them from moving, and each of her hands held one of Kim's wrists. Slowly, inexorably, she brought the wrists together and held them both in just one of hers. Kim struggled mightily, but Shego's strength was overwhelming. Finally, she held Kim helpless as she brought her free hand above her head, glowing with power. "Goodbye, Kimmie."_

 _Kim screamed, and Ron and Drakken whipped their heads around at the sound just in time to see Shego's hand plunge right through Kim's chest._

 _"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron screamed. With an all too brief convusion, Kim's body went completely lifeless. He ran over to her and held her limply in his arms as Shego, her right hand dripping gore, got up and strode grinning over to Drakken, who stood staring in shock at the scene, mouth open._

 _"Shego...what have you done?" Drakken whispered in a horrified voice._

 _"What do you mean? I did exactly what you asked. I destroyed Kim Possible. That's what we've been trying to do for years now, isn't it?" Shego sounded confused._

 _"Yes, but...that's not...I never expected...that is...ahem, excellent work, Shego, just as I had planned!" Drakken attempted reaquire some confidence. "Yes, Kim Possible will never trouble us again-urk!" He made the mistake of glancing over at her and collasped on the ground puking at the sight of her insides on display as Ron held her up from behind, eyes empty, ignoring them both. As Drakken stood back to his feet terror came over his features. "Oh, no. I'm dead. We're dead. We need to run! Now, Shego!"_

 _"Wha...why? I just destroyed the one and only threat to your plans, now is the time to capitalize! Why should we run NOW?"_

 _"Don't argue with me Shego, just get into the escape pod and let's go! And hit the hele-lair's self destruct button on your way out! Maybe that'll buy us some time..." He finished in a whisper._

The scene ended, then started again from the beginning in Ron's head as he lay in his state of living death. He didn't remember how he got out of the exploding arial lair. He didn't remember anthing much after that, not even the funeral, if there was one. Of course there was one, she was Kim Possible, probably the single most beloved person on the entire planet. He supposed he must not have gone. He did recall having just enough self-awareness to pass Rufus off to Monique at some point, knowing that he would no longer be able to care for himself, let alone another being. He was simi-concious of a myriad of people coming into his room trying to get him to respond to various stimuli since then, none of which worked. He ate, used the bathroom, and showered, all without input from his concious mind, and that was the extent of his life now.

Most people lose someone important in their life at some point or other, and it hurts, and they grieve, and maybe their life changes for the worse, and then they move on, and life continues for them. But for him, she wasn't just someone important. She wasn't just his best friend since they were too young to remember. She wasn't just the love of his life. She was everything. She WAS his life. She was gone, and his life was over.

Some people, when faced with loss of this magnitude, would lash out. Find who's at fault, and make them pay. That would become the new pupose in their life. Not him. He didn't have the hatred in his heart for that approach. It wouldn't bring her back, it wouldn't give him his life back. It would only deny everything she was, everything they were to each other, and everything they tried to do for the world together. He had enough trouble trying to remember any of the good times together than to make it all a lie like that.

So, he lived, if living it could be called, in stasis. Time didn't exist for him, so he was unsure of whether it was days or months or years before finally...finally something happened to disturb his state.

He heard the sounds of arguing approaching his room.

"No, you can't! The doctors say he needs time..." His mother's voice.

"Madam, he's had too much time already! While he sits here wallowing, the world falls into ruin!" Another familiar voice, gruff and female, though he couldn't put a face to it. That would take actual thinking.

"That's not his responsibility! The world-saving thing was always voluntary."

"That was before. When SHE was still alive. We've never faced anything like this, and there is nowhere else to turn. Madam, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but if your son cannot help us now, Global Justice might as well not exist at all. And very well may not, shortly. At the very least, I have to try."

There was a long pause, then a sigh. "Fine. I'll let you try. But if he doesn't respond, you need to get out. And don't come back."

"That's all I ask."

The door burst open, and Dr. Betty Director strode into the room, grabbed Ron by the collar, and hauled him to his feet. "Ronald K. Stoppable, get off your lazy butt and get to work! The world needs you."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I'm just arandomshipper, not an owner.

 **Grief**

Ron sat sulking in the passenger seat of a hovercar, scowling at his one-eyed tormentor sitting in the driver's seat. She had quite literally _shaken_ him from his state of mental hibernation, physically and verbally assulting him until he finally responded by lashing back, a tactic that none of his friends or family had dared to try until then. He had no intention of helping the person that pulled him unwilling back to the land of the living, but his parents were so pleased to see him show any kind of response whatsoever that Dr. Director managed to convince them to overlook his protests and stand aside while they dragged him kicking and screaming to the hovercar and strapped him in. He felt a mild sense of betrayal over that, but mostly he was just irritated that he was being forced to pay attention to the world around him again. The first ten minutes of the ride over to GJ passed with Ron silently glaring unacknowledged daggers at the driver.

He was fully intent on remaining silent until he was allowed to go home, but his resolve didn't last, as he found that anger was a gateway emotion, and he was now feeling one he thought he never would again: curiosity.

"So, am I at least going to hear what was soooooo important to drag me out of my bed for?"

She looked at him, suprised. "I didn't think you'd be ready to listen for another couple of hours at the least. Are you prepared for the briefing already?"

"Might as well tell me, not that that means I'll help you or anything."

"We'll see." She turned back to her driving. "Okay, Stoppable, I'll give it to you straight. Let's start at the beginning. One week after...your last sitch..." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Drakken and Shego were dropped off at Global Justice HQ. And when I say dropped off, I mean they were actually dropped. On our doorstep. Forensics say it was from hundreds of feet at the least."

"Forensics? You mean they're..."

"They're dead."

Ron felt...something. A bunch of somethings, none of which he could define, so he buried it all back down and stayed silent.

Betty gave him a quick glance. "Not going to say anything? Jump for joy, maybe? Gloat a little? Your worst enemies, who recently...did something to make you hate them, and when you find out they're dead you just, what? Don't care?"

Ron drew in on himself. "I don't know," He whispered. "I don't know, but I know it doesn't make me satisfied, or content, or happy. Nothing will ever make me happy again, that I do know." He looked at her. "So go on. Drakken and Shego are dead, and?"

She sighed. "Yes, forensics determined that they had been dropped from hundreds of feet in the air, so most likely from an airborn craft of some kind, like a jet. But there is a large problem with that. Airspace around Global Justice is heavily restricted and monitored by the best radar systems in the world. To avoid detection and make the drop...there are only three known vehicles with the stealth capabilities to achive such a feat, one of which is stationed at GJ. Of the other two, well, suffice it to say that there is a 98% chance that Shego's personal jet was used. Forensics further determined that they were dead well before the drop was made. The damage the bodies sustained from the fall made it difficult to determine, but evidence recovered since has made it near certain that the cause of death was blunt force trauma induced by human hands and feet. In other words, they were beaten to death by an unarmed assailiant." She gave a bigger sigh. "Now, would you happen to know the exact number of people that could conceivably beat Shego in a fistfight?"

Ron shook his head wordlessly.

"Well kid, seeing as how most obvious motivation for this was revenge, you name came to the top of a very short list."

"My name? You guys thought that I could? And would?" Ron said, shocked.

"Our anylysts have calculated that if you were operating at peak proficiency, whatever that special martial art you practice is-"

"Tai Shing Pek Kwar."

"Yes, that. Would make you more than a match for Shego, even given her powers. And as far as what you WOULD do goes, well...grief affects everyone differently. There's honestly no predicting how someone will react to loss like yours."

"I see." Said Ron somberly. "But you're asking for my help now, so I guess I'm not under suspicion anymore?"

"No," Betty frowned. "And that's a problem, because we don't have a second suspect. We were able to clear you because we've kept you under surveillance, and you haven't left your house at all during what has become a string of serial killings."

"So this unknown super person that can beat Shego has killed more people since then? Kinda disproves the whole 'revenge' theory, doesn't it?"

"Yes...and no. Twenty-two days ago, a very impressive and persistent delivery boy- incidentally, we may be recruiting him at some point- made it past all the death-traps in the Seniors' mansion to find them both very, very dead. Forensics had a difficult time with that one as well, considering the state of decomposition, but the time of death was estimated to be one week after Shego and Drakken. The cause of death was identical. Twenty-one days ago they finally had an easy one. We raided Duff Killigan's lair in an attempt to prevent another killing, since with the death of the Seniors we had some cause to believe that we were witnessing the systematic elimination of all supervillians, only to find that we were minutes late. Exactly one week after Kim was killed," She winced almost imperceptibly at her own words, "Drakken and Shego died. Exactly one week after that, Senor Senior Senior and Senor Senior Junior were killed. One week later, Duff Killigan. At that point, it was officially labeled a serial killing. Someone is systematically executing every supervillain. Or, maybe more to the point, every enemy that...Kim had."

Ron took this in. "Okay," He nodded. "Okay. There's a serial killer targeting supervillains. Sounds like this someone's doing the world a favor. You should be estatic. Your agency never had the authority to perform executions, and now the constant thorns in your side, the few people able to escape GJ custody, or evade it entirely like the Senior's, are being removed with no ties at all back to you, no blood on your hands, no paperwork to fill out. I'd think the only reason you'd want to find this person is to give them a medal, otherwise leave them alone to finish the job. How do we get from that to 'the end of Global Justice'?

"Yes, that is a sentiment that many seem to be leaning toward throughout the department, and were it not for the last two incidents, I might. MIGHT. Have agreed, despite the fact that it spits in the face of everything that GJ is and stands for. I am not exactly immune to feelings of anger and desire for revenge myself. But, those last two incidents DID happen, and that changes everything."

Betty took a deep breath. "Assuming this is all about revenge, it is already troubling that the Senior's and Killigan were killed, as they were uninvolved with...what happened, but it is to a degree understandable. They may not have done the deed themselves, but they've surely tried to many times, and would have if they could have. You might say they bear the crime of intent. However, seven days after Killigan, the one eliminated was Camille Leon, a non-combatant, who has never actually posed a physical threat. And the most troubling of all was the next one. We've had Motor Ed in our custody for months. We moved him to solitary and maxed out the security around him since all the trouble started. Camera's everywhere, hundreds of agents around him with the very best equipment available. Six days ago, none of that mattered. Our holding facility was hit with an EMP bomb the likes of which we've never seen. We're built to withstand anything, so we thought. We have backup generators using every power source known to man, so that we wouldn't be crippled if electricity was disabled. This bomb shut down absolutely everything, and enveloped the whole place in a shroud of darkness that we believe is the result of the disruption of solar energy, effectively blinding everyone. Hundreds of our men, the best of the best, were taken out in a matter of minutes, sustaining all manner of injuries. Some had the presence of mind to use lighters, and from them we have gleaned what little discription of our perp we could. Just one person. He-or she, possibly- wore flowing black robes that made any kind of physical discription of body type impossible, and a hood that did the same for facial features. This person infiltrated the most secure building on the planet and took out the target in record time. Somehow, no one but Motor Ed was killed, though I have a feeling that was more accident then design, based on the injuries some of the agents sustained and the medical strides needed to save them. It was more like the perp didn't care to secure kills other than the target then that they were trying not to kill anyone else."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you begin to see the problem? Even if we continue to assume these are revenge killings, who's to say when they'll stop? After all the supervillains are dead, this person could target anyone at all. They could blame us for asking for her help with missions. They could blame her parents for allowing her to go on missions. They could just blame the whole world for needing her all the time. And of course, there's the much more daunting possibility that these are not revenge killings at all, in which case we have no idea what the motive could be. Maybe clearing the way for some new, more powerful villain? It doesn't really matter though. What matters is that there is an individual out there with more personal power than the most powerful peace-keeping force on the planet. There is absolutely nothing we can do to stop them. If this continues, the legitimacy of our existence will be called into question by the nations we were designed to protect. We are an independent agency who's jurisdiction and authority is recognized by every nation in the UN. We prevent countless wars by our very existence, as well as by direct intervention on a constant basis. We are the actuality of peace on earth, and anything that threatens us, threatens the world. We've managed to keep the details under wraps for the moment, but if this continues, and the world finds out how powerless we are, we will be shut down, and the possibility of eventual world war becomes closer to a certainty."

There was a long pause as Ron contemplated what he had been told. He had intended to be as uncooperative as possible if this was another routine mission like all the others he had done over the years, but this wasn't like all those other times at all. The gravity of this sitch was much more severe. This time, not only were lives at stake, lives had already been lost. This time, instead of some crackpot scheme for world domination that would probably fail on its own somehow, they were faced with a threat to the human race that was probably incidental to the plans of the person causing it. And Ron found that...he cared. This was HER world. The one she put her life on the line every day to save. The one she lived to protect. The one she had died to protect. To stand by now would be to make everything that she was a lie, and as much as he wanted to retreat once more into the recesses of his own mind, that was something that he just couldn't allow.

"You've convinced me to _try_ to help. But do you really think I'll succeed where all your agents and technology failed?"

"We can only pray that you do. We have no other options. Besides, you won't be alone. You'll have a partner on this op."

"Well that's great. Booyah." Ron tried and failed to summon some of his usual enthusiasm. "Who is it? Someone I know?"

"Oh, yes, someone you know very well." Betty chuckled. "He's...oh, we're here. He's right over there. Going on the assumption that all our weaponry will be useless and recognizing that the martial expertise of even our best agents will be equally useless, he's the only other person we knew of who might actually be a factor in the coming fight. Plus, he's the most probable next target."

The hovercar parked, and Ron looked across the parking lot to see his new 'partner' coming toward him, a tall, lanky man in a black karate gi, with grossly misshapen facial features as well as hands and feet that more resembled a monkey than a human.

"Monkey Fist."

"Ron Stoppable. My eternal nemisis. Desperate times make for strange bedfellows."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I'm just arandomshipper, not an owner.

Grief

"Strange. Huh. Not the word I would have used. I was leaning more towards Sick and Wrong. Do I really have to work with this monkey?"

"Why, you pompous little-"

"Yes, you do." Betty cut Monkey Fist off and grabbed his and Ron's shoulders, holding them apart. "So you'd better start making an effort to get along. You," She turned to Monkey Fist. "Your very life rides on the success of this, so I'd strongly advise you to ignore any further provocations. And you," She turned to Ron, and her eyes softened. "I know you're going through a lot. I know you didn't ask for this. But please, please try to be more cooperative. We need you to be 100% behind this. You know what's at stake here."

Ron slumped. "Fine. So what's the plan."

"Follow me." Betty walked into the giant building that was GJ HQ. Ron and Monkey Fist followed her through vast corridors, past countless offices and training rooms and other rooms the actual purpose of which was impossible to determine until finally passing through double doors into a room with...nothing. It was enormous. Ron estimated it to be the length and width of about three football fields, and it was entirely empty. "We're here."

"Oooookay...and where is here?" Ron said, bewildered.

"Here is a room specially designed for this mission. The roof and walls are nearly impenetrable, steel more than ten feet thick. There is only one door. This person is a master of stealth, but that will do them no good here. You will most certainly see them coming. Also, that bomb that was used that simultaneously shuts down technology and emits a shroud of darkness? The darkness will be useless here. We've covered everything in a biological illuminating agent."

Ron started. He hadn't even noticed that the light in the room didn't come from bulbs in the ceiling, but the instead from the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor.

"We've announced to the world that Monkey Fist is under our protection, but have hidden our plans on how we will protect him under heavily encrypted files behind our strongest firewalls...which I am certain our enemy will nevertheless obtain. In fact, I'm counting on it. They will discover the existence of this room, and the various defenses we've surrounded it with, allowing them to effortlessly bypass it all without even needing to engage our agents." She sighed. "This part of the plan only three people know about, the three people standing in this room. I'm not going to needlessly expose my agents to certain harm and possible death when it's already been confirmed there's nothing they can do. The perp will pass untouched through our defenses, and you will fight. That's the plan."

Monkey Fist sneered. "That seems more than a little unfair. We're being asked to risk our lives, while you people, who are actually being paid to do this, get to sit on your hands."

"I hate to agree with Monkey Fist, but...actually there's no but. I hate to agree with Monkey Fist." Ron smirked.

Betty scowled at Monkey Fist. "Your life was already at risk. In fact, if it weren't for us involving Ron, your death would be certain. Gratitude would be much more advisable than critique here. Plan B is only one word from me away from becoming a reality."

Monkey Fist paled. "Forgive me, please. I did not mean to insult. I am very grateful for you intervention, I assure you."

Monty's reaction made Ron very curious as to the details of this Plan B, but he had another question for the Director first. "So this plan. They come, we fight. That's incredibly simple. Is that really the best your tacticians here at GJ were able to come up with? Cause like, that sounds like something I'd come up with, and no one's ever accused me of being a tatical genius."

"I know. I'm very sorry, Ron, but this really is all we have. We've never faced anything like this before, where all our manpower and technology is useless. It's unfair, terribly unfair, but it all rests on you. I wish you the very best of luck, of course. Based on prior patterns, our best estimates give you a few hours to prepare yourself. Take care. Don't die." With one last sad smile, she walked out of the room.

Monkey Fist walked to the middle of the room and sat crosslegged, hands on his knees, eyes closed.

"Uhhh, what are you doing?"

He cracked an eye open. "Gathering my Chi for the coming fight, of course. You should be doing the same."

"I don't know anything about Chi gathering. Is it anything like wool-gathering? Cause it really looks like it is."

Monty opened both eyes and stared at him. "Please tell me you're joking. I know your command of Monkey Magic is imperfect, but you cannot even summon your Chi at will? We are surely doomed."

"Well, I never needed anything like that to kick your sorry behind all those times." Said Ron defensively.

Monkey Fist covered his face with his hand. "And thank you so much for reminding me. I lost to a moron. A buffoon, as Drakken would say. I suppose that makes me even more pathetic than you are." His hand lowered, revealing eyes that gleamed. "And yet here we are. The two of us, the last hope of the world."

"Not the last hope. What about Plan B?"

"Please don't mention that." Monkey fist shuddered.

When he didn't say anything more, Ron asked, "So what is Plan B anyway?"

"Ah, yes, of course they wouldn't tell a naive goody-goody like you something so sordid." Monkey Fist said with a sneer. "Global Justice, HAH! They like to give the appearance of innocence, but when their backs are to the wall, they are as quick to throw away any pretence of morals as anyone."

He rubbed his face. "When I first came to GJ for protection, I was taken to a medical lab to 'evaluate my condition'. What they actually planned was to turn me into a biologically based incindiary device. Luckily for me, Dr. Director vetoed the plan before they got into the less...reversible stages, over the protests of the vast majority of her subordinates, so she claims. She cited the impossibility of creating a remote detonator for such a thing and the difficulty of timing it correctly. This killer is so very fast, making such a thing explode in the miniscule window of opportunity presented as they get in, secure the kill, and escape again, would take something like a miracle. She is also of the opinion that even 'bagging' the killer, as she puts it, wouldn't be enough to redeem them in the eyes of the world if they lost yet another person under their so-called protection."

Ron shuddered. "Wow. That's not just Sick and Wrong, that's WrongSick! But hey, if that happened at least everyone would know you were the bomb."

Monkey Fist scowled. "I see that what passes for your sense of humor has not abandoned you, even after-"

"Don't." Ron's eyes hardened. "Don't talk about that. Don't mention it. Don't think about it. As far as you're concerned, that doesn't exist."

"Denial-"

"Don't."

"Fine. Then leave me to my meditation. At least one of us should be prepared for this fight." Monkey Fist once more closed his eyes.

"Meditation, what is that? Some kind of Indian dish?" Monkey Fist ignored him.

"Fine, but if you start saying 'huuuuuuummmmmmm' I'm going to kick you in the face." Ron muttered.

Ron wandered around the room aimlessly. He hadn't realized that it could be so boring in the hours leading up to a life and death struggle, but in the end, waiting is still waiting, something he was never very good at. Along with meditation. And boredom was bad, very bad, because now that his brain was active again, boredom meant trips down memory lane...where SHE lived. She dominated his memories. Every important moment in his life, she was there. Most of the seemingly unimportant day to day moments, she was there too. This was why he tried so hard to turn his mind off, he realized. It was a defense mechanism, as a psychologist might say. A bulwark against the unbearable pain that came from remembering all those happy times with the knowledge that they would never come again, that their very source was gone forever. His memories came into such sharp focus that he could hear her voice in his head, almost like she was standing right there.

Her excited voice. _"Ron, I've been named cheerleader captain! Isn't that awesome?"_

Her exasperated voice. _"Did you actually lose your pants again? Ron, you have got to get some suspenders or something."_

Her disgusted voice. _"Ron, I understand that you think you can fit five nacos in your mouth at once, but when pieces come out every time you chew I think it kind of defeats the purpose."_

Or his favorite, that quiet, contented voice when she said, _"Ron. I'm glad you asked me out. This dating thing...it's better than I could've ever expected. You make me happy."_

These and the many other voices she made over the years danced unobstructed through his brain, bringing with them pain, pain, and more pain. He was nearly hyperventilating from the force of his own memories.

 _"Ron, did you..."_

 _"Ron, can we..."_

 _"Ron..."_

 _"Ron."_

"RON STOPPABLE!"

That last one didn't sound like her. With a jolt, he returned to the present. Monkey Fist had been the one to shout. He was standing now, and staring at Ron from across the room. "Can't you sense it? It's beginning."

No sooner had he finished speaking then the double doors flew open. Ron hardly had time to register the cloaked figure before it crossed the room and was on Monkey Fist, the two of them engaged in mortal combat nearly too fast for the human eye to follow. He rushed over and tried to help, but he couldn't even provide a real distraction. The cloaked figure casually knocked him aside with a single blow and returned to attacking Monkey Fist.

Ron discovered that he was woefully unprepared for a fight of this level. He'd spent weeks doing nothing but lie in bed, eating less than he should. His command of the Monkey Magic, always tenuous, was currently very weak. But, as he was repeatedly swatted aside like a bug every time he tried to help, he found a deep reservoir of anger that he had no idea even existed giving him the focus he needed.

As his focus sharpened and his hold on the Monkey Magic grew stronger, he found himself better able to follow the movements of the two combatants. The cloaked figure wasn't using any real martial arts at all, just pure brawling. That was the only thing preventing Monkey Fist from being completely overwhelmed by his opponent, who was clearly far faster and stronger than him. He was using every technique and trick he knew, and it was all he could do to defend himself. He couldn't launch an attack. He couldn't even totally block all the blows. Every few strikes would land a glancing blow on him somewhere, and he was wearing down fast.

Ron launched himself once more into the frey, and the figure seemed taken aback by the ferocity and sudden competence of his attack. Monkey Fist used the opportunity to launch an attack as well, and now it was the hooded figure being pushed back, barely blocking all the blows. The Magic flowed through and between the both of them, growing and smoothening out over time, melding them into a perfect fighting duo, with stronger teamwork than people that have trained their entire lives together.

Impossibly, though their attacks grew stronger and sharper by the second, they could not land a decisive blow, and Ron soon realized why. The cloaked figure had begun using martial arts. It was like they weren't worth the effort before, but now that they were a threat, he/she/it was fighting them for real. They were desperately exceeding their own limits, while their opponent simply had higher limits to begin with, and allowed his/her/itself to more closely approach them to compensate.

Monkey Fist seemed to be growing frustrated by the lack of success. His attacks became more wild and aggressive, and the flow of perfect teamwork between him and Ron was cut off. The stance of the figure in black indicated amusement, as each of Monty's attacks were almost tauntingly dodged by the smallest margin possible. The dodging became more effortless as Monkey Fist's attacks became more erratic, and the cloaked person now had the leeway to not only block all of Ron's attacks, but to counter as well.

It suddenly felt more like a one on one than a two on one, and Ron was severely outmatched. Just one blow could take him out of the game...and there it was, a vicious full power side kick to his stomach that he couldn't dodge. He got both hands and a leg up just in time to block, but the blow sent him sliding across the room, and all three limbs went numb from the impact. He could only watch helplessly as the figure leaped and spun through the air at Monkey Fist, right leg blowing through his defenses with a sideways axe kick, leaving his jaw exposed for the left leg to land a bone-shattering toe kick before landing gracefully, like a beautiful dance move had just been performed instead of a deadly attack. Monkey Fist flew through the air, unconcious before he hit the ground.

The figure stalked deliberately up to the unconcious Monkey Master, intent on finishing the job. A hand went up. In Ron's head, he could see a different hand go up, glowing with green fire, about to end a different person's life. He felt a great surge of anger, sadness, and most of all, helplessness...and then it all bled away at once, and he felt peace.

The hand came down to crush Monty's head, but it was stopped inches away, by Ron's hand around the wrist. The figure started. He had crossed the distance between them in a blink, moving far, far faster than he had before. The figure tried to pull away, but found that his strength had increased as well. He didn't budge, and his grip on the wrist didn't slacken. The figure shrugged, and launched a series of attacks with both feet and the free hand. Ron head-slipped and blocked with only his own free hand, not deigning to move his feet in the slightest. The figure realized what he was doing and attacked his torso and legs instead. He finally released the hand and danced out of the way. He then dropped into the stance that was the truest expression of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, knees bent and body angled, arms in the air and palms facing up, one hand in front and one behind. He beckoned his opponent with his forward hand.

The hooded figure growled and lunged at him, and the fight began again. This time the roles were reversed. Ron was completely immersed in the Monkey Magic, and it increased his strength and speed beyond even that of his previously invincible opponent. The cloaked person was undeterred by this though, compensating by using a variety of martial arts with unbelieveable skill and precision. It became very obvious very fast that even when Ron had thought he and Monkey Fist had forced this person to take them seriously, they were actually still being toyed with. Only now was he able to determine the true fighting strength of his opponent.

Ron's focus increased still further, pushed by the skill of his opponent, and he pushed right back. His attacks became ever sharper and heavier, dealing damage right through blocks. The variety of martial arts the opponent used decreased, and he/she/it began to rely more and more on what was clearly the style of prefrence and highest level of mastery, a style that Ron began to realize was...

He broke away. "You! But how?! It can't be, it can't be, it can't be!"

The figure stopped moving for a long moment, staring at him, then grasped the edges of the hood and drew it back...

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! CLIFFY ALERT!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here, the story splits in two. The following is the ending that felt the most natural once I started writing the story. I finished Chapter 3 still intending to go the direction I had originally planned, but my fingers and brain conspired against me and ended up writing this instead. For the ending I had originally intended for the story, see Out Of Grief.

 **Grief**

...to reveal blue eyes, blond hair, and a sinister, mocking smirk.

"Zorpox!" Ron hissed.

The other him laughed. "Zorpox! Oh, the things I come up with sometimes! I really slay me. Well, not quite yet. This is far too amusing. But soon. Soon we'll get to that. In the meantime, you might as well keep calling me Zorpox. It'll make things less confusing than if we both call each other 'Ron'."

"But how?" Ron spluttered. "Are you a clone? Did Drakken make you?"

"Oooh, this might take a while. Have a seat." Zorpox sat down. Ron did not. "What? I already told you I'm not going to kill you yet. Take a seat. Relax."

"I'll stand." Ron seethed.

"Suit myself." His double shrugged, unconcerned. "So, to answer the question: No, the big blue idiot had nothing to do with this, thankfully. Not directly, anyway. If I was the result of one of his hair-brained experiments..." He shuddered. "I'd have to kill myself. It would be a mercy killing. I mean, seriously. I've had less education than the average high schooler, I have no practical experience whatsoever, and I'm _still_ a better scientist than he is. Better at conventional science and mad science both!"

"So then, DNAmy..."

"No." Zorpox cut him off with a look of disgust. "Truthfully, I shouldn't need to explain any of this to you. You were there for it. Kim's death really wrecked your head, didn't it?"

Ron's eyes screwed shut and his breathing quickened with the surge of pain in his chest. Zorpox watched him closely. "Yes. Yes it did. You're an absolute mess." He whispered. "You can't even handle anyone mentioning her name."

"Whelp," He continued cheerfully, "That's exactly why we now exist in our current form. After she died, Ron...let's call him Ron Prime. Ron Prime was nearly torn apart by conflicting desires. That's not too surprising. He was a very strange guy, full of contradictions. Kinda funny to be talking about ourself like this, but I can say these kinds of things now. I have perspective."

"Contradictions. You mean like how I like to talk, but I hate to listen to myself rant?"

"Zinger." Zorpox said sarcastically. "What a pathetic excuse for a taunt. I was talking about weakness and strength. Supernatural competence and logic-defying clumsiness. Intelligence and idiocy. All wrapped up in the same person. So this person, Ron Prime, had two simultaneous and very different reactions to Kim's death. He hated Shego and Drakken for what they took from him, and he wanted to strike back. Revenge. But he also just wanted to curl up and die. That part of him saw revenge as pointless, saw everything as pointless, really. The poor, conflicted soul came up with a truly inspired solution. Kage Bunshin no Jutsu."

Ron gaped. "That's not even a real thing! That's just something in fantasy stories!"

"Wasn't. Wasn't a real thing. It is now. Ron Prime invented it on the spot. Of course, his version was...is, I guess it's a continuous thing going on here...a little different than the stories. The most notable difference is that while with a conventional Kage Bunshin no Jutsu the clone shares the will of the original, this time it was used for the specific purpose of personifying the conflicting aspects of his will. We were born from the same person, but we have opposing purposes."

"No." Ron shook his head in denial. "No, it hasn't been me doing all this. It can't be. There's too many things wrong with it!"

"Do tell." Zorpox said curiously.

"What about the EMP bomb? Where would I get something like that?"

Zorpox waved a hand. "Easy, easy. It's not a bomb or anything like that. It's just an unconcentrated Chi blast. Mystical Monkey Power doesn't mix well with technology. I just tweak it ever so slightly, and Presto! It blocks sunlight too. Neat, huh? Anything else?"

"Dr. Director said Drakken and Shego were dropped from hundreds of feet in the air, from a stealth aircraft, one of the most complex vehicles on the planet! I may be capable of amazing things sometimes, but there's no way you learned to pilot Shego's jet in a week!"

Zorpox laughed heartily. "Is that all? The idiots at Global Justice are not capable of thinking outside the box they've created for themselves with all their technology. They're completely blind to certain aspects of reality, like exactly what Mystical Monkey Power makes me capable of. They were not 'dropped' from hundreds of feet in the air. They were thrown hundreds of feet through the air, from the ground. I never even had to get close to the building."

"But...but that's not possible!"

"What, you too?" Zorpox looked annoyed. "Listen, I don't even know the limits of my power with the Monkey Magic, but something like that isn't even that impressive. I could probably lift this whole building if I had the leverage. From what I've seen so far today, even you could've pulled off that stunt with Drakken and Shego."

Ron realized that he was probably right. He hadn't thought of uses for his newfound strength outside of combat, but he probably could do something like that if he wanted to. "Fine. But that still doesn't explain everything. Mystical Monkey Power doesn't make me a hacker."

"A hacker? What are you...this is taking too long." His face took a look of concentration. "Ah I see. That's even more hilarious than the piloting misunderstanding, but I've already used up all my laughter, so I'll just scoff in disgust instead." He scoffed.

"What did you just-"

"Shadow clone, remember?" Zorpox smirked. "I can share your memories at will. Yeah, no, I'm not a hacker, and Betty's an idiot. She told the whole world that Monkey Fist was under her protection. Looking for him at GJ HQ was a no brainer, and pinpointing him was sooooo easy once I got to the general area. He was waving around his Chi like a lighter at a concert. And as far as sneaking past the 'defenses'" He used his fingers to make air quotes. "goes, well I could've done that much in my sleep. Now you're convinced that I'm telling the truth, but, you've got one more question for me."

Ron nodded. "If you looked into my memories, you know what Dr. Director said-"

"About the consequences of my actions. The end of the world."

"So are you going to stop?"

"Global Justice in general, and Betty in particular, have an overblown sense of their own importance." He said contemptuously. "They could cease to exist tomorrow, and the world would move on without them. Probably wouldn't even notice. Their existence is threatened, yes, because I'm taking out all the villains they were created to stop, and really, with the awful job they've done of it so far, it's a wonder they lasted this long." His eyes went dark. "But even if she's right...I don't care. I want to kill them all, so I will. The world can burn, it's not my concern. Oooh! Made a rhyme."

"But that's not what she would want." Ron said softly.

"She's gone. What she would want doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to me." Ron brought his fists up.

Zorpox slowly rose to his feet. "Fine. I was going to destroy you anyway. You are everything I hated about myself. You're so stupid and weak. Really, it's a miracle Betty was able to drag you out of bed for this. You were literally made to do nothing but lie on your bed and die."

"I may be weak, but there's no way I'm losing to a cheap, imitation, shadow clone of myself." Ron said confidently.

Zorpox stared at him in disbelief, then facepalmed, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. "Just when I thought I was done laughing. Whatever else I am, I am definitely a funny guy. An idiot! You're an idiot! I'm an idiot! Was there ever a part of me that was this _stupid_? You absolute moron, I'm not the Shadow Clone! You are!"

Ron felt horror creep over him. Zorpox's chuckles died down, but the mocking smile never left his face. "Why do you think you have so much trouble remembering things, or focusing? Why do you think I can get into your head, but you can't get into mine? Try, if you don't believe me."

Ron did try. He put all of his effort into reading his opponent's thoughts, getting into his mind. Nothing.

Zorpox's grin widened. "But most importantly of all...why do you think I'm so much stronger than you?"

Before Ron could register movement, he was flying across the room from a blow to the sternum. He tried to bounce back up, but then the pain of the attack hit him, and he collapsed, puking.

Zorpox stalked over to him. "Pathetic. I can't go at full power like that, it'll be over way too quick. I think I'll go back to...60%. That should put us about even again." He nuged Ron with a foot. "I guess I should be proud of myself though. That punch would've killed anyone else. And really, the fact that you can fight me even at 60% is pretty amazing. I mean, even when I was fighting you and Monkey Fist together I was only at 20%. Who would've expected that the opponent to push me the most would be myself? Figuratively it happens all the time, but literally? I'm probably the only one in the world. That's what it means to be the best, I guess."

"I just...realized something." Ron choked out.

"And what's that."

"I..talk too much." Ron grabbed the foot nudging him and twisted, trying to secure an ankle lock. Zorpox, caught by surprise, rained down countless blows and yanked desperately at his foot. Ron was unable to hold on under the onslaught. He released the hold and rolled away, much the worse for wear, but dragging himself to his feet anyway.

Zorpox scowled at him. "A sneak attack. I wouldn'tve expected it of me."

Ron allowed himself a small smile. "Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought I did."

The evil him shrugged. "Whatever. It's futile anyway. I'm still faster and stronger. My control of Mystical Monkey Power is complete. I can manipulate it in ways you would never even think of, including channeling it into any fighting style I choose. I'm not limited to the Tai Shing Pek Kwar like you are. And, if I really want to prevent any more sneak attacks, I can just read your mind. I honestly can't figure out why you're still trying."

"And you never will." Because Ron did not himself know the answer to that question.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I feel so inadequate to this task. My own personal arrogance allows me to think that I have the very best ideas for stories in all of existence, but when trying to make those into reality, practicality forces me to acknowledge my inability to properly execute those ideas at the level they deserve. I really, really wish I had a personal slave of a professional writer that I could just feed my ideas into and he/she would pop out stories left and right, or at least that some better writer on this site would adopt some of my ideas...well, that's probably how most of us around here feel. So, until the day I suddenly become a billionaire and hire Orson Scott Card or someone to do my writing for me, I'll just do the best I can and post stories I'm not completely happy with, always hoping that the experience will add up until I can finally produce something close to what I imagine in my head. Okay, enough pity party, let's get back to the story.

 **Grief**

Ron (he still thought of himself as Ron, no matter what his double might say) was a person always open to new experiences, or at least he had been that person before everything that had happened. However, even at his most open-minded, getting one-sidedly beat on for over an hour had never been on his bucket list. He was using every ounce of power he had on defense and recovery, and could not launch a single effective attack. Slowly but surely, he was being worn down. It seemed just a futile as his other self had claimed. He was stalling, but to what end? There was no backup coming, no cavalry for this battle. Monkey Fist lay forgotten on the floor, the only other being on the planet whose martial presence Zorpox would even be forced to notice. He could be dead, for all Ron knew, but even if he wasn't, he wouldn't be fit to fight again for days. The result at the end of the fight was not in question, only the timing of it was, and both Rons were well aware of that. Nevertheless, he continued to struggle.

"Ok, this is getting old." Zorpox said, as Ron pulled himself to his feet for what may have been the hundredth time. "I don't remember ever being this persistent about anything."

"I do." Ron put his hands up once more.

"No you don't. Your memories and mine are the same, except that you have less of them. If I don't remember, there's no way that you do." He jabbed a couple of times to get Ron's hands out of position, then kicked viciously at his unprotected side. Ron leaped sideways with the impact to lessen the damage and was sent sliding across the floor once more. He rolled to his feet before his slide had stopped.

"It's because she said yes the first time. Maybe you've forgotten, but not me. If she had said no, we weren't going to give up. We would have kept trying, our whole life if necessary." He spoke the words not even knowing what he was going to say until they actually left his mouth, but immediately realizing the truth of them. And that truth opened his mind to the greater truth, the answer to the question both hims had been asking since the fight started. Why he was still fighting.

"My emotionally crippled clone wants to instruct me on the nature of my own feelings?" Zorpox was incredulous. "You were created from the part of me that couldn't face the truth. That couldn't do what was necessary. That just wanted to run and hide!"

"But that's just it. You're running too. You think your revenge quest is facing your feelings? It's not." Ron felt a rush of energy and serenity as the truth filled him and flowed through him like his very lifeblood.

"I don't have to take this from me! I'm the real one, I have all the power. You've existed this long by my will alone. I'm officially bored of this game, I'm ending it now."

"Yes. Let's end this."

Ron once more used his favorite stance, beckoning his opponent with his forward hand. Zorpox rushed him and swung at his face with all the speed and power available to him, intending to end it with a single blow. Just minutes earlier Ron would hardly have been able to see him move at such a speed, and would surely have been finished. Now, however, Zorpox seemed to Ron to be moving in slow motion. He didn't bother blocking the attack, just moved his head to side to allow the fist to pass him by and the forward momentum of his opponent to add force to his own fist, driven into Zorpox's gut. Zorpox flew hundreds of feet through the air like a bullet, stopped only by the thick steel wall of the room, where he made a body-shaped indentation and collapsed to the ground, eyes bulging and clutching his stomach with both hands. Now it was Ron's turn to casually walk up to his downed opponent.

He didn't rush. His opponent had time to recover a bit and regain his feet by the time they were within striking distance again.

"A fluke." Zorpox croaked, eyes reddened from the pain.

"Oh, yes. A fluke. One that will repeat itself right...now."

Zorpox desperately tried to cover his stomach at Ron's words, but Ron just knocked his hands away with his left and drove his right once more into his opponent's already damaged stomach. Zorpox slammed into the wall again, but this time Ron didn't allow him to fall. He pinned him to the wall with blows, landing hundreds of punches per second. Zorpox screamed in pain as all the Mystical Monkey Power within him was used to keep him alive through all the damage. Ron finally allowed him to drop to his hands and knees, broken, bleeding, and completely drained.

"But how...I'm the original...I'm the real one..." He whimpered.

"It's very simple." Ron said softly, almost sympathetically. "It's because I love her...and you don't."

"Don't love her?! I did all of this for her!"

"No," Ron shook his head sadly, "You did all of this for you. It wasn't out of love." He sighed and bent down. "It feels a bit strange to be explaining this to myself, but...love and desire are two very different things. Often, very often, they coincide, and because they both have the same target, people will mistake the one for the other. You didn't love her, you loved what she was to you. You loved what she brought into your life, and how she made you feel. Your 'love' was entirely selfish, and that's why once she was gone, you didn't care what she would want. Because she couldn't give you anything anymore, she didn't matter to you anymore."

"True love is unselfish and kind. You abandoned your kindness. True love is not envious or arrogant. You were willing to let the whole world suffer for your loss. But most of all, true love is long-suffering. If you really loved her, you would face your pain, not run from it. I did too, for a while, but I'm done running now. That's why I win. I may have been just a shadow-clone, but the biggest, best, most powerful part of Ron Stoppable was the part of him that loved Kim Possible, and you couldn't carry it with you on your misguided quest, so you put it in me. I may not be the original, but I am more real than you are."

He picked up his defeated doppelganger by the biceps and began pulling.

"No! What are you doing?"

"What is necessary." Ron pulled with all the strength and magic he had, and a primal scream erupted. He couldn't tell which of the two Rons had made it, maybe both. At the very height of the scream, Zorpox burst apart in red mist. It wasn't blood, though, as one might expect, but the red energy that had manifested with the use of the attitudinator. The pieces or Zorpox's body dissolved into that glowing red aura, which then settled around Ron. Ron screamed once again as the energy flooded into him, and he fainted.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So. We made it. We're finally here. It's finally, finally, finally the last chapter. For real this time. Thanks for coming on this journey with me, everyone. I had no clue it would be this long when we started. You are all true troopers for sticking it out with me. And now, (in the words of a great orator) without further introduction and with no ado whatsoever, here it is! Grief, final chapter.

 **Grief**

Ron faded into conciousness, his mind slowly gaining awareness, though his eyes remained closed. He was in a bed. Not a comfortable one, or maybe he was just uncomfortable because of all the machines he was hooked up to. Someone was talking. It seemed to be about him.

"...seen anyone survive with injuries like that. It shouldn't be possible. We can't even tell what caused many of them! And to watch them heal right before our very eyes...I am far out of my depth here."

"I don't care about any of that. I'll ask again. Is he going to wake up, and if so, when?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, I don't know! I'm a very good doctor if I do say so myself, but you can't throw me into all this supernatural mumbo jumbo and expect me to have any answers!"

"It's okay, I can help you out with that. The answers are 'yes' and 'right now'." Ron said, opening his eyes.

"Ron!" Relief shone in the single eye of the leader of Global Justice. "You're all right!"

"Well...that may be a bit of an overstatement." He sat up slowly.

"Miraculously, every physical test we're capable of performing has you in perfect health, despite the condition you were in when we brought you here. But you don't feel well?" Dr. Director asked in a concerned voice.

"I wasn't talking about physically." Ron said quietly, his eyes going dark.

She breathed in sharply. "Get out. Everyone else out now."

"But I can't just leave the patient-"

"OUT!" She jerked her head at the medical personelle, and her agents gathered them up and hustled them out of the room, ignoring their protests.

Ron smiled ironically, a facial expression strongly resembling his Zorpox smirk. "You've got good instincts, woman."

She ignored his disrespect and eyed him cautiously like he was a viper, keeping her distance. "Will you tell me what happened?"

Ron nodded. "But first...can you tell me if Monkey Fist is still alive?"

Her expression became even more guarded. "I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"Please. I won't do anything. I don't think."

"That's not very reassuring." She stared at him for a long moment before giving in. "He's alive. He's in our intensive care unit with a shattered, nearly powdered, right mandible and a severe concussion, but he'll pull through. He's tough."

Ron sighed in relief and looked down at his hands. "Well, that's one less death on my conscience." Betty didn't respond. He looked back up at her and said, "So yeah, as you seem to have guessed by the way you're acting, it was all me. I was the killer."

She nodded. "We had it right the first time. We just didn't know what you were capable of. So, how did you do it? And why stop now? Did Monkey Fist...actually beat you?"

Ron's chuckle had a bit of evil in it, and his eyes flashed red. "That amatuer? Not a chance. No, like all the greatest supervillains, I defeated myself. Does that sound a little cryptic to you?"

Betty shook her head slowly. "I can pretty much guess what you mean. When you decided to go on a killing spree, you somehow created a double for yourself to have an alibi. Then, when I convinced 'Ron' to help, the double and the original fought."

Ron thought about this, then shrugged. "Close enough. I said it before, but you really do have good instincts."

"So, the question is, which one am I looking at now? The double or the original?"

Ron guestured to her. "You're on a roll here. Why don't you tell me?"

Betty laughed harshly. "This is truly bizzare, and I'm going off of pure guesswork here, but...based on the fact that Monkey Fist is still alive and you aren't tracking him down right this minute to finish the job, I'd say the double won. On the other hand, based on the fact that there was only one Ron at the scene and your current attitude, which is nothing like the Ron I recall from just yesterday...both. I'm looking at both. The two combined somehow, and now I'm playing games with the most dangerous person on the planet, who could go on another unstoppable killing spree at any second."

Ron did a slow clap. "Exactly. Bravo. You are a very impressive woman."

"But you were such a good person before. It's hard to imagine that even a great tragedy could have changed you so much."

Ron's laughter had an ironic tinge. "Do you know that I've actually been a supervillain twice before this? No, you wouldn't. Global Justice wasn't involved either of those times. Twice, I was affected by a device called the Attitudinator. I wasn't the only one affected though. The first time, Drakken was also involved. All of team go, including Shego, were hit the second time. And here's the thing. Hego, Mego, the Wego twins, Drakken...none of them changed that much. Sure, they switched sides, but their basic personalities stayed the same. The only two that changed drastically were Shego...and me. Now, why do you think that is?"

Betty shook her head wordlessly.

"The science of it is far from exact but...oh, by the way, I also discovered that I have an extreme aptitude for mad science while I was affected. Anyway, I have a working theory. For people who are the same inside and outside, it only reverses their moral polarity. However, for conflicted people who are desperately repressing aspects of their personality that they don't like, that they won't even acknowledge...it forcibly brings those to the forefront, creating a complete change in personality. Like two different people. When Shego was changed, she didn't just become good. She became kind. Unbelievably kind. I believe that's who she really wanted to be, deep inside, and that it was the strain of repressing that part of her that drove her to her most evil acts. And as for me, well."

"You're saying that the evil you is the true you, that your goodness that everyone knows you for is just a facade?"

"It was all because of her." His voice grew softer. He wasn't talking to Betty anymore. His words were for himself. "She made me a better person. She made me _want_ to be that better person. Maybe Zorpox is who I was always destined to be, if I hadn't met her." His face grew determined. "But I did meet her, and she changed me. A part of me was ready to throw all that out the window, now that she's gone, but that's not the part of me that won. Just because she's gone doesn't mean I'm letting her go. I'm never letting her go again."

Betty stood silent for a long moment, but finally she had to ask the question. "So what happens now?"

Ron looked up, surprised. "Now? Should be obvious, right? Now you lock me up, and throw away the key. That's what you do with murderers. I did just commit a bunch of them, in case you forgot."

Now Betty was surprised. "You would let us? I think we both know it would be pretty pointless if you didn't. We don't have anything that could hold you. Judging from the nature of the self-inflicted injuries you survived and how fast you healed from them, we probably don't even have anything that could execute you, either."

Ron nodded. "I'll help you build something. I have to pay for my crimes, and I'm not fit to be around people. It's past time for me to face my grief. There were two of me out there for a while, and they each took different approaches to it. One turned his pain outward, relieving it by lashing out at the world. The other buried the pain deep inside, avoiding it by hiding behind a catatonic mind. The were both wrong. I will experience every bit of the pain coming to me, and I will live with it. That's what it means to grieve, and that's what she deserves from me. The very least she deserves."

Betty nodded slowly. "So we build you a prison. And then you stay in it? Forever?"

"Forever. I won't need food or even water. I can sustain myself indefinitely on my own energy, so once I'm locked in, never open the door. Unless you need me. Call me, beep me, if you really need me, but you'd better be sure it's necessary. If you're not facing the absolute certainty of the destruction of the world, the solution may be worse than the problem."

 **40 Years Later**

Sergeant Adonis Du approached the command center on shaky legs, hardly able to bear the nature of the news he carried. He wished his commanding officer could be the one to carry the news, but his commanding officer was dead. As was his commanding officer's superior, and that superior's superior. And on up the ladder. That was a large part of the news he carried.

He ran through the security checks, and the huge doors wooshed open. The only person in the room was the Supreme Commander of Earth's Forces, a figure whose aged, bent frame was held up by a cane. The Commander stood staring through the window of the gigantic space station orbiting Earth toward the battlefront, though of course the action could not be seen with the naked eye from here, nor even with the most powerful telescope available.

Sergeant Du approached respectfully, but he could not keep his voice from breaking as he delivered his news. "Commander, I bring word from the front. Our hit and run tactics have failed. We were outmaneuvered, and forced into battle."

The old woman nodded resignedly. "And the result?"

The soldier's voice cracked even more. "As projected...99% of our fleet was wiped out. We have just twenty warships remaining, and now the entire Lorwardian fleet is headed to earth."

The commander said nothing, just continued to stare into space. Sergeant Du, thinking he understood her silence, said, "No one blames you, Commander. It was impossible from the start. Humanity was simply outmatched. You don't have to make the announcement, I will do it for you."

The Commander finally turned around, revealing a wrinkled face with an ancient, vastly outdated eyepatch. Anyone else would have simply gotten a robotic eye by now, which revealed something of the stubborn nature of her character. "And what announcement would that be?" She asked curiously.

"Well...the announcement to the earth. Of our impending destruction. Telling people to get their affairs in order, that humanity's time in the universe has come to an end." He stumbled over his words, not expecting to have to explain himself.

"Ah, yes. It's all over. The world is doomed. If only I had a nickel for every time I've heard that, I wouldn't have to still be working at 90 years old." The Commander sounded amused.

"But...but...there's absolutely nothing we can do! We have used all of our resources! We have no allies! There is no hope at all!"

"Let me tell you something about humanity." The Commander took on a lecturing tone. "We are the single most stubborn race in the universe. We are the most dangerous of all cornered animals. When all hope is gone, that is when our enemies should truly fear us, for that is the time, the one and only time, when we can fight with nothing to lose."

"But what can we do?" He whispered.

"We can do something I never thought would need to be done in my lifetime. I'm initiating the S Protocol."

The Sergeant only looked confused. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"It was on a need-to-know basis!" The commander snapped. Then her voice softened. "And now you need to know. You're coming with me."

She hit a sequence of buttons and the two of them were teleported down to earth, in front of a huge building about half the size of the Command Center space station. She performed a retinal scan, and the door was opened. She entered the building. Sergeant Du followed her curiously.

They proceeded to pass through a dizzying maze of the most insane number of security checks Du had ever seen. He lost count fairly quickly. He didn't even recognize most of them. His respect for the Commander grew as he observed her going through spoken codes, written codes, typed codes, punched in codes, guestured codes, and many, many others, as did his fear of what could be so dangerous to put this much security between it and the world. They passed through force fields of so many varieties that he was certain some of them had been invented exclusively for this building.

When they finally reached the center room, he was shocked to find not a hyperadvanced technological weapon of mass destruction capable of blowing entire galaxies away, but a man. Just a man.

He was an unremarkable man at first glance, though further examination showed a number of unusual things. His long, flowing blond hair and beard were a vast departure from the fashion of the day, no one did that anymore. His facial features had an ageless quality that made it impossible to determine how old he was. And then there was his position. The man was sitting in the middle of the room, legs crossed, eyes closed, hands on his knees...but he wasn't sitting on the ground. He was sitting in midair.

As they approached, he lowered to the ground. The Commander gave a smile full of irony, and spoke. "Ronald K. Stoppable-"

"I know, I know." His eyelids went up, revealing eyes with no pupils or irises, but that instead crackled with blue and red energy. "Get off my lazy butt. The world needs me."


End file.
